Hands
by LostInWonderland72
Summary: People's hands speak of their lives, and the four Golden Monarchs of Narnia are no exception.  A closer look at the hands of the Pevensies. Four shorts, Golden Age.
1. Peter

**A/N: **I have literally no idea where this came from. I was settling down to write some other stuff when this just popped into my head, and it wouldn't leave me alone. I was thinking about my family's hands, and how their lives are reflected in them, and then started thinking about the same applying to the Pevensies, and here is the result. They will probably be four very short studies.

Please review and let me know if I should continue with Susan :) I'd love to know what you think.

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><p>Peter's hands are, first and foremost, swordsman's hands. Rough and battle-hardened, they know better than anything the grip of a sword hilt. They are skilled, callused with many hours of practice, brown under the Narnian sun. His are hands that know hard work.<p>

But for all their roughness, there are none as careful as his to wipe away Lucy's tears, none as gentle as his to whirl Susan around the great ballroom at Cair Paravel, none as tender as his to rub the strain and lingering hurts of battle from Edmund's body. And there are none in all Narnia as deft and quick as his to bind wounds and set bones on a ravaged battlefield. They are always warm, as he grasps Lucy's chilled hands in his own and rubs heat back into them lovingly. He runs long fingers through Edmund's damp hair and soothes his trembling after a particularly vicious nightmare. They are even occasionally delicate, to fasten priceless jewels around Susan's white neck before they descend to the Great Hall together, arm in arm.

If a closer look is taken, raised marks can be seen that encircle his wrists, the marks of captivity. Scarred with rusty manacles. They tell a tale of cruelty and imprisonment, and of long nights spent in chains. He is royalty, and there are risks.

But Peter's hands are strong, the hands of a king and a warrior. They are deadly, but give the softest of touches. With them he governs a country, defends a people, and loves his family. They bestow the blessing of Aslan upon those who seek it.

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><p><strong>AN: **Please review! I would love to know what you think of this and whether I should continue with Susan and the the others :)


	2. Susan

**A/N: **I sincerely apologise for the slow update-I'd intended this as a quick thing, but I was away for a few days and then returned to that most horrendous affliction, writer's block. Anyway, here is Susan-Edmund should be up a little quicker, I hope.

Please, please review!

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><p>At first glance, Susan's hands are flawless. White as the marble of which Cair Paravel is built, with nails trimmed to perfection. Her fingers are slender, elegant musician's fingers, fashioned to masterfully pluck at the taut strings of harp or lyre. They are as skilful as her brother's, but far less warlike, as they dance along a tightly strung instrument to weave the very sweetest music.<p>

They are softer than snowfall, but for the slightest hardening of her left palm and the tips of the fingers on her right hand-the marks of an archer. There are no hands steadier than hers in all Narnia, and even the most delicate of the four has a lethal touch.

Her white finger tips are needle-pricked, the ravages of her love of embroidery. She has a fascination with the infinite complexity of thread and stitches, and her intricately woven tapestries decorate the halls of Cair Paravel. Her skill in needlework often leads her to the rough tents of battlefield hospitals, where she uses needle and thread for a far less artistic purpose, and by the weary end of a dark night her snowy hands are stained red with the blood of soldiers snatched back from the void.

Susan's hands are pale, graceful, tender. With them she winds summer flowers into Lucy's long hair, guides the pieces across a chessboard in combat with Edmund's. They tremble as they tie her ribbon of favour to Peter's armour before he duels in a vicious tournament. But above all, the hands of the Gentle Queen uphold her title, for her touch is feather soft and with them she seeks to soothe the hurts of her people.

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><p><strong>AN:** Edmund's up next!

Please, review, I'd love to know your thoughts on this...


	3. Edmund

**A/N: **Here is Edmund's chapter! I apologise once again for the wait-school must, sadly, take priority. Lucy's will probably be up next weekend :)

Please review, I would love to know your thoughts on this!

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><p>Edmund's hands are the hands of a scholar. Clever and quick, ink-stained fingertips slit with small paper cuts. There is something delicate about them, while as strong as his brother's, they have something of the pale slenderness and grace of his sister's. They are hands for turning the crumbling pages of ancient law tomes by candlelight in labyrinthine libraries, hands for delivering elegant, victorious strategy on chessboard or in war council.<p>

While the grasp of a quill fits well in his hands, the grasp of a sword hilt settles just as comfortably into his palms. They are rough, rough like Peter's with many hours of practice to make up in skill what he once lacked in strength. His twin blades whirl and flash, light dancing across them as he rains death upon their enemies. His wrists match Peter's also, the marks of what they have suffered together raised on his skin.

His nails are ever so slightly bitten, a habit of anxiety detested by Susan. She snatches his hands back from his face and winds them in her own to stop him fidgeting nervously, especially in the early days when he still wasn't certain of his place in his kingdom and his family, and even now when any of his siblings takes his hands in their own he finds it deeply comforting.

In the heat of summer he plucks the blooming flowers from outside the gates of the castle as gifts for Lucy, and when he is feeling sentimental and there is no one there to witness he even helps her weave them into pretty chains with his nimble fingers, her favourite type of jewellery. His hands have been sickeningly red with Peter's blood after he has been too heroic on the battlefield again, and it is all he can do to desperately try to stem the bleeding, hands shaking as Peter's life slips away through his fingers. He teaches Susan endlessly of the intricacies of chess, and they sit together in the light of a dying fire and wage war across the table. But more than anything his hands hold the scales of justice for the people of Narnia, for none are so renowned in judgement as he.

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><p><strong>AN:** Lucy will be up soon. Please review!


	4. Lucy

**A/N: **So here is Lucy's chapter! This is the end of Hands, sadly-I've enjoyed it very much, and I hope you have too.

I'd like to thank all my lovely reviewers: WillowDryad, metaphoricheart, icanhazjoy, peanutmeg, .Narnia, MCH, Silvertongue90, AlwaysABrandNewDay, Saorise7 and CM. Many thanks to you all, as well as those who alerted or added it to their favourites :)

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><p>Lucy's hands are captivating, as they make swift, expressive gestures that sketch the shapes of one of a thousand stories that she loves to tell. She enchants all those who watch her, drawn in by her radiance as she weaves tales of love and war and faith, painting pictures with her small hands.<p>

They are tanned from the bright Narnian sun as her eldest brother's are, but somehow delicate, like Susan's. They smell of the rich earth that she loves so well, for nothing gives her more joy than laying dry, dead seeds into the soil and watching as they spring to life in cheerful colours as the summer comes. Some days, she comes home with hands bramble-scratched and berry juice stained, dirt crusted under her fingernails, and smiles brightly as Susan scrubs her fingers raw and red with soap under hot water.

They seem almost ridiculously small, and she jokes that their growth has been inhibited from years of being enclosed tenderly in the hands of her older siblings, but they are firm with the grip of dagger and bow. She braids ribbons into Susan's long hair, and clutches Edmund tightly around the waist as they thunder across the moors and through the forests together on the back of his horse. She slips her small fingers into Peter's hand when the weight of the golden crown on his brow becomes too heavy for him, and pours faith and strength into him with that smallest touch.

Lucy's hands are renowned most for their healing touch. They are quick and knowledgeable and red with soldiers' blood after a long battle, but when the sun rises over the carnage the next day, the lines of troops who gather to thank her for their lives make everything worthwhile. And when the battle turns bad and things are at their most desperate, she will drop her bandages and take up her dagger and her bow and lead the fresh charge, for she is the Valiant Queen.

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><p><strong>AN:** Finished! Please review :)


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